


Time

by sometimes_i_english



Series: The timer [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, is this angst?, no it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_english/pseuds/sometimes_i_english
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every person has a set of numbers, a "timer" if you must, that appears on their wrist at some point in their lives and counts down until the moment they meet their "soul-mate". Basically a University!AU where Zayn meets Liam and they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, one day I was on Tumblr and someone said something along the lines of that movie where you pay with time and when it runs out you die (I haven't seen it, sorry) and what if that time counted down to when you met your "soul-mate" and then that idea stuck in my head and bugged me for weeks and here this is.  
> This hadn't been beta-ed so any mistake is mine, I apologize for them in advance.

Seconds tick away as the numbers glow green against his dark skin. It’s past midnight and Zayn can’t quite fall asleep, not yet. Thoughts run through his mind at an immeasurable speed and his whole body seem to vibrate with energy he didn’t know he possessed.

He touches, caresses, the faint glow on his right wrist, fingers a little numb from the cold weather outside; before sighing loudly and lowering his arms to lay beside him. With all the energy he had felt, he doesn’t turn and toss, but rather stay still staring blankly at his ceiling. What was it he’d read once? Insomnia was some sort of torture, yeah, sort of; what with his thoughts quieting down and leaving him to the stillness of being alone.

It’s funny, really, how those tiny glowing numbers appear at any given moment and counted down to the exact moment of meeting one’s “soul mate” (if such a thing existed)

But more than funny, it’s cruel, building expectation and nervousness and what ifs.

There’s still time on his wrist, more time than he’d like to admit; he’s already twenty years old for fuck’s sake. Not that casual sex was such a rare occurrence, but still, somehow he’d kept the romantic (and maybe stupid) idea of keeping himself for the one he was meant for; even when they may not return the gesture.

“Shit” he sighs and before he knows it, he’s fast asleep.

The echo of his rapid footsteps bounces off the walls in the empty hallway; he’s late for his first lesson. “Shitshitshit” Zayn repeats it like a mantra, as if doing so can bring time back and make his damn alarm actually work, or maybe his eyes open enough to see the time before slamming a finger against the snooze button and falling back asleep.

Zayn isn’t a fan of being late, so he runs, he runs as fast as his I-haven’t-had-coffee-yet body can take him.

One more turn, one more hallway and he’d be in his class; he sprints forward, turns and… surprise, a hard body collides with him sending his pads, pencils and other materials flying around.

All he can feel is the pounding in his head and the ache on his lower back as he looks up, a curse and a grimace already on his tongue. But he stops. Whoever he had collided with id crouching down in front of him and looking straight at his face with a worried expression and the most beautiful eyes Zayn had ever seen.

The brown eyed stranger stares at him for a while before smiling apologetically and offering a hand to help him up. “Sorry mate” he says, and maybe his low voice had just become one of his favourite sounds and he has to fight the urge to look at his wrist because he had stared at it last night and he knew, he knew it was still a year before his actual soul mate appeared; and maybe he’s being ridiculous, but maybe, just maybe, he would like it if the brown eyed stranger turned out to be his soul mate.

“You alright?” the boy asks waving a hand in front of his face, Zayn flushes as he realizes the bloke has been speaking to him for a while now.

“Yeah, sorry” he says hastily “’m late for my class” he explains. The man nods and smiles, and Zayn finds that his teeth are perfect and his lips look soft and his hair’s a weird mix of brown and blond that Zayn would like to find on his palette sometime.

“I’m Liam by the way” a hand’s extended at him and Zayn blinks twice before taking it with a shy smile. 

“I’m Zayn” he answers, and is rewarded with a bigger smile; and alright, Zayn is acting like he’s fourteen, but Liam is beautiful, and his eyes look so honest and earnest and Zayn wonders how the world isn’t in love with him. 

(And maybe, just maybe, Zayn finds himself a little disappointed at his time not running out at that exact moment)

(But maybe, and he doesn’t let himself think about it for more than half a second, Liam’s time will match his and somehow they had collided before time was due)

“Here you go” something is thrust upon his arms and he has to look down to realize that while his brain had been melting down, Liam has picked all his things up and is now giving them back.

“Oh” he says “Thanks!” he quickly grabs everything, and he wonders if all his blood has suddenly decided to have a party right on his cheeks. But Liam keeps looking at him with that smile, and maybe he’s being presumptuous with his next words, and maybe he shouldn’t because what if Liam was wonderful and wasn’t his one? Then, maybe he wouldn’t be able to feel happy with his actual one. But by the time those thoughts reach his brain, the words are already out of his mouth.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee?” the words are more blurted than spoken, tripping over each other as they leave his lips and his blush deepens.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up in a surprised expression and Zayn thinks he’s asked the wrong thing, or he’s inconveniencing Liam’s schedule; he opens his mouth again to take his question back when an easy smile spreads Liam’s lips (and if Zayn’s gaze happens to linger there for a moment too long, well that’s nothing but a coincidence)

They walk in silence through the University campus, side by side. Zayn’s brain buzzes and whirls with how uncomfortable silence makes him, he keeps stealing side way glances at Liam through the corner of his eyes; but Liam just looks like Liam, or the way Zayn supposes “Liams” are, all calm demeanour and soft colours and maybe a strong line here and here; and alright, maybe he needs to stop comparing people to art supplies and drawings.

Halfway to the University’s coffee shop Liam suddenly stops and Zayn thinks it has finally hit him how utterly boring this boy that crashed with him and then asked him for coffee is; and so, he braces for a poorly constructed excuse and Liam going back to wherever he says he’s supposed to be.

“I just remembered” he says, and Zayn smiles softly as an early acceptance of whatever Liam’s got to say he has to do. “Weren’t you going to class when we crashed?” and there’s a certain urgency in his voice, almost apologetic that he’s making Zayn waste his class.

Zayn’s smile vanishes to form a perfect “O” that quickly turns into a hearty laugh. “You worry about that now?” he jokes and this time, there’s a pink tint to Liam’s cheeks and the fact that he’s caused it (and this time it isn’t a maybe) lets warmness pool inside Zayn’s empty stomach.

“Zaynie!”

“Hello Louis” Zayn smiles at the short boy behind the counter. His wrist is smooth clean and there’s a brilliant smile plastered on his face (has been there since the date his time ran out)

“How’s my man doing?” Louis asks happily

Liam chuckles behind him and Zayn has to physically stop himself from bottling the sound and keeping it in a secret pocket he’ll saw on a jacket later on.

And it hits him. 

He needs to stop.

Because he’s acting like a fucking teenager in heat, although really, the only thing he hasn’t checked out on Liam is his bulge. But still, he needs to stop.

So Zayn breathes to calm himself and the ground beneath his feet feels a little steadier and air flows easier into his lungs, and his brain seems to be working normally again.

“Louis, this is Liam” he says “Liam, this is Louis”

“Hello” Liam waves shyly at the boy

“Well, hello to you too” Louis grins “Where did he get you from?” he asks pointedly ignoring Zayn rolling his eyes at him.

And to their surprise Liam just laughs and his laughs are all honesty and warm, and maybe Liam is the actual personification of autumn; but no, Zayn needs to stop, so he stops.

“He crashed against me on the hallway”

Louis mocks a dramatic gasp, with the hands covering his mouth and everything. “Did he now?” he asks gravelly “tsk tsk, Zayn, what have I said about running in the hallways?”

And Zayn has to laugh at his friends drama, and once again, it comes as no surprise how Louis is majoring in drama. “How’s Harry?”

A smile that could be a mixture of happiness, fondness, playfulness and just the right amount of mischief threatens to split Louis’ face, and Zayn knows he’s said the right thing. “He’s wonderful” Louis breathes

“Harry?” Liam says “You mean Harry Styles?”

Both Zayn and Louis have the same surprised looks on their faces, although they shouldn’t really because who on earth doesn’t know Harry Styles?

“Yeah?” Louis says

“So you’re that Louis he’s always talking about” there’s a pleasant smile to Liam’s voice and Zayn could wish for his time to have stopped and for Liam’s to be the same; and he really, really needs to stop.

“He-he does?” and the small stutter that never happens, along with the sort-of-embarrassed blush that crawls through his friend’s cheeks just help reaffirm Zayn’s knowledge of how happy Harry makes Louis.

And he can’t help it really.

The fond smile that tugs at him, looking at his friend like that.

“Indeed he does” Liam nods

“Where do you know Harry from?” Zayn asks

“Oh, it was an accident actually; there was a party near my dorm early this year and Harry was way too intoxicated to go back, so I dragged him to my room and let him stay for the night. And we’ve been friends since then”

No.

That’s not jealousy.

Because even when Zayn would like to know everything there is about Liam, he cannot, he most definitely cannot be jealous about a lad that accidentally met Liam before him.

“Can we get our coffee please?”

The three of them jump out of their reverie to find a small group of grumpy-looking girls behind them. They order, apologize to the girls and find a quiet table near the back to sit.

Fingers play with mugs as silence passes and they simply sip on the hot liquid (and Zayn was definitely not paying attention but Liam drinks his coffee with cream and enough sugar to get diabetes)

“Who was throwing the party?” Zayn finally asks

“The one where I met Harry?” and there’s a brilliant smile on Liam’s face, and a glint in his eyes, like a child that knows a secret but is willing to share it; so Zayn nods.

“My roommate” and Liam’s eyes have almost disappear between the crinkles his smile is making “Niall”

“You mean that Irish mate?” Zayn asks because just like Harry, everybody knew a Niall from Ireland, the Niall that throws the best parties and is always a bubbling smile with blue eyes and blonde hair.

“The same one” there’s pride in Liam’s voice and Zayn feels his heart swell from the sight of the boy across him being so fond of someone.

They sip on their coffees and talk about things like school and assignments, things that hardly matter; but they just met and maybe things that truly matter are to be talked later on, when they’re actual friends and Liam’s voice will be full of pride when he talks about Zayn.

Without really wanting to, or knowing how, a Liam File forms somewhere in Zayn’s head; and he knows it shouldn’t be there, because he knows, Zayn knows that Liam isn’t his one. The strange burn his wrist feels whenever they’re together or their fingers accidentally brush or Zayn stares for too long; it’s just a reminder of how there’s someone (someone who isn’t Liam) that’s meant for him (and he’s being stupid, but he still wishes for that someone to be Liam)

What does Zayn know about Liam now?

He knows the way he drinks coffee (because he was definitely not paying attention and because they go out for coffee other times after that first one)

He knows Niall now (because Liam insisted in introducing them despite Zayn’s aversion to people)

He knows Liam is 19 and majoring in economics (because he’s smart enough even when he doesn’t admit it)

He knows Liam’s from Wolverhampton, where he has two older sisters (Ruth and Nicola)

He knows the way Liam’s eyes get crinkly and almost disappear when he laughs with his heart

He knows Liam is afraid of spoons (and probably hided every single spoon he has in his room for him)

He knows he is completely and irrevocably in love with Liam Payne, and most importantly, he knows that he shouldn’t.

Weeks go by and the list only grows, and the numb sting on his wrist becomes a permanent thing.

And somehow the five of them have become a thing, a sort of group. The sort of group people like and know but also know they can’t intrude; they throw partied and get drunk together (except Liam can’t drink because he only has one kidney) and sometimes when they’re back at Liam and Niall’s someone rolls a joint and they pass it on until the smoke swirling on the air is the clearest representation of the fogginess of their mind.

“Hey Zayn”

Zayn looks up from the book he’s been reading, something from Dostoyevsky because a week ago he’d realised he didn’t know much about Russian literature and that made him feel relatively stupid; he meets light greens and dimples and a mop of curly hair, and Zayn smiles lightly because he likes Harry.

Harry with his easy smiles and slow voice; Harry with his angelic face and devilish antics; Harry who reads about Plato and listens to weird-ass indie artists. Harry. Harry who makes his friend, Louis, happy.

“Hey Harry” he answers back and continues reading, because they all know he won’t stop unless Liam appears and starts a loose conversation about how his statistics professor is an ass.

Not surprisingly enough, Louis appears a while later and tangles himself on Harry (and later comes Niall and then Liam, and then Zayn closes his book and joins their conversation about professors that are asses)

The first time it happens (how does it even happen?) they aren’t nearly drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol; and Zayn has to remind himself that Liam doesn’t drink, so it’s just him, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.

It had been about three months, 4 days and about 6 hours since Zayn ran into Liam (not that anyone was keeping count) and for some artistic reason nobody fully understood, Zayn was depressed; so he called Liam, because of course it had to be Liam and no one else.

And somehow, after about one hour of Liam rubbing comforting circles on his back, they found themselves tangled on each other.

And Zayn reached in (and God knows about the knots in his stomach and the trmebling of his hands) a light brush of lips on lips, far too brief to be a proper kiss. And he was ready to run, to run somewhere and hide to never see Liam and his giant eyes and brilliant smiles and warm hands ever again.

But then there were fingers, fingers curled around his own and a small tug and he was leaning down again and it was warm and chaste; lips moving on lips until the tip of someone’s tongue traced someone else’s bottom lip and a gasp bounced the walls.

And Liam.

And Zayn.

And Zayn was kissing Liam.

And Liam was kissing Zayn.

And LiamandZayn.

It was wet and sloppy and a little nervous; kind of like something that builds up but doesn’t quite explode, more like something that glides underwater (slow and quiet and beautiful) 

Zayn licked Liam’s mouth, tasting everything he could, and Liam tasted like everything and nothing Zayn could’ve imagined Liam would taste like.

Liam was sweet, like honey, but Liam was also Liam; and with all his expletives and extensive vocabulary, Zayn couldn’t find a word to describe the way Liam tasted.

It’s slow and soft (and Zayn is not paying attention at how badly his wrist burns) and it probably lasts for less than two minutes, and yet it feels like time, time, doesn’t even matter.

“Hey” Liam whispers when they pull apart

“Hey” Zayn whispers back. Hazel eyes meeting brown ones and a lazy smile spreading on both boys’ faces.

They don’t leave Zayn’s room for the rest of the day (or the one after) they just lay there, on top of the sheets, tangled limbs and not-so-stolen kissed as they talk about the things that actually matter.

Like the was Zayn doesn’t know how he’ll ever pay his student loan back when he’s majoring in arts with a minor in design (and Liam shots him a look while telling him his pieces are amazing and he’ll be more than fine)

Or the way Liam shows Zayn his time for the first time, and the small bubble of hope Zayn still kept burst and dies because it indeed is different from his; and then Liam is telling him how lately it stings, yet Zayn can’t bring himself to admit his does the same.

And then they share secrets that aren’t really theirs to share. Zayn tells Liam how he met Louis and how Louis had been his first kiss one night when they were drunk during freshman year, and how happy Louis has been since Harry happened; and how their relationship feels like fire and explosions and they fight more than not, but still manage to look at each other like life doesn’t really suck.

Liam tells Zayn about how he met Niall on a trip he took to Ireland when he was fifteen, how they kept in touch and what a relief it had been to have him as his roommate.

When they finally decide to get out it’s already 7:00 a.m. on a Wednesday. They both have classes to attend, they untangle from each other with reluctance, in almost a painful slow motion of someone scared to move. 

Before leaving for his own room, Liam leans on the door frame (and Zayn realizes he may have a thing for boys that are taller than him for two or three inches with mops of curly hair and incredibly brown eyes) they hold their gazes and in a moment of only-God-knows, Zayn surges forward, tilting his head and delivers a chaste kiss on Liam’s lips. Because, what if the spell lifts after leaving the room? What if everything that happened was just a happy coincidence? What if? What if?

And Liam smiles.

Liam smiles and Zayn’s insides do a back flip and they might belong in a circus, but really, how would that even be possible? And now he’s rambling, but it’s ok.

“See you”

It’s a whisper.

And it holds more than its words.

A weight falls next to him where he’s sat on the grass at lunch, and Zayn doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Louis (followed closely by Harry)

“So Zaynie” he beams “How was it?” he asks, his eyebrows waggling comically.

Zayn has a puzzled expression on his face. “How was what?” he says.

Louis just stares at him with his are-you-fucking-kidding-me look, and for what feels like a long while they stay like that; Zayn with his puzzled expression and Louis not believing his stupidity. Until Harry laughs and Louis attention is taken away.

“What was what?” Zayn asks again, because really, he’s a bit curious

“What was what?” Louis mocks him “well, the sex of course!”

And Zayn wishes he could control it, he does, a deep blush expands from the roots of his hair to his cheeks and descending all the way to his chest.

“Wh-what?!” he half stutters, half shrieks

“The sex, Zayn, S-E-X” Louis motions “You were locked in your room for two days and a half with Liam. Liam” 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” and if there’s a bit of a defensive note to his voice, well, hopefully nobody notices it.

Both partners roll their eyes in unison.

“Well” this time it’s Harry “You and Liam sort of look at each other like you wished the other was your other” he explains. 

Zayn can feel the heat on his cheeks growing and chastises himself inwardly for blushing so easily. Tattoos, stubble and his whole bad-boy image be damned.

“There was no sex” he whispers back

If he was being frank, if the situation wasn’t happening to him he’d find the look on the other two hilarious.

“There was no sex?”

“Shhh!!” Zayn urged, Louis being Louis had not cared for any eavesdroppers.

 

“Oi! ‘s up?” the voice preceded a bright smile and a couple of brilliant blue eyes

“Hey Niall!” Louis and Harry greeted at the same time (and fuck, wasn’t that cute?)

“Hi” Zayn waved.

Niall just stood next to him and levelled him with a look that made him squirm and want to avert his own gaze, he doesn’t though.

A small wink, almost lost, and a smirk cross Niall’s face before he sits and pats Zayn’s knee.

Zayn is confused.

It doesn’t take long before Liam appears all brilliant smiles and crinkly eyes. He sits next to Zayn, an arm draped around the other boy’s shoulders scooting him closer. Identical smirks form on the other three and Zayn’s blush makes its reappearance.

A week goes by and then another.

Liam’s things slowly make their way into Zayn’s room.

Zayn starts wearing plaids over his white t’s. Plaids that aren’t his.

Their clothes (and they) start smelling less like their individual selves did and more like a mixture of both of them. Maybe a poison, maybe an antidote.

Toy story nights become something for them. (And Zayn thinks the bed covers are a bit ridiculous but they’re Liam’s and Liam, well, Liam is Liam)

Sometimes the burn on his wrist stops being numb and Zayn is reminded of the undeniable fact that Liam will have someone else. But right then, right where they are, it doesn’t matter because Zayn can’t imagine Liam’s other being someone else but himself, and his other couldn’t possibly be someone else but Liam.

So he kisses Liam, and Liam kisses him back.

And time goes by.

It sort of happens, sort of not.

They’re on Zayn’s bed.

Tangled like they are.

Kissing like they do. Slow, soft, comfortable. Until the kisses become heated, a pull of lips and a suck of tongue; teeth scratching skin and fingers puling hair.

Zayn can feel heat radiate from where Liam’s hands have travelled, keep moving, on his sides, down his hips, finally settling one at the small of his back and the other pulling at the short hairs on the back of his neck.

Small moans spill out.

Who’s made them? 

Was it Zayn?

Was it Liam?

Does it really matter?

There’s a labyrinth of clothes strewn across the floor as skin slides against skin, marks are left and desperation finds its way to Zayn’s stomach and settles there, making him tug and pull on Liam’s skin and his hair and he wonders how the younger boy’s lips aren’t bleeding from how much he’s bitten them.

And it hits him.

How Liam is younger than him, by months really, but younger nevertheless; and how more mature Liam is, and how unfair it is from Zayn to ask so much from Liam.

So he stops.

But Liam just smiles and kisses him softly, and tells him it’s alright.

How does he know?

And it’s outright frightening, how well Liam has come to read Zayn’s mind in such a short time.

Time

But he shushes it, and wills his brain to shut up while he enjoys Liam.

Liam, who is hovering above him asking if it’s alright to continue while assuring it’ll be alright if they do.

So he nods.

And Liam just smiles a kiss on his lips.

Zayn doesn’t really know what’s happening, he’s read about it, of course he has; but the actual experience is something different.

Where everything feels like the infinite prelude to an unimagined plot that may already be writing itself and where the final stroke might never come.

They’re back to themselves.

And Liam takes care of him, in the slow pace that they are, in the underwater world where they’ve come to move. (Maybe expecting time to eventually stop and just let them be)

There are still marks and bites that will bruise come morning. But there are also soft caresses of fingertips and lips dragged across skin.

It burns, it does, but it’s Liam. And Zayn can feel Liam inside him, moving and touching him with the adoration one should really only reserve for things that are worth it.

And there’s a crescendo.

And then it explodes.

Stars, no, Zayn doesn’t see starts, he sees Liam.

Liam, Liam, Liam.

Because what else could it be but the litany that falls from his lips and mixes with the Zayn, Zayn, Zayn that resounds above him?

Their raged breaths break through the semi darkness they’ve been in, until Liam moves to clean them up and then settles down again with his head on Zayn’s chest and their ankles locked together.

Liam’s fingers trace Zayn tattoos with something close to reverence; and for that moment, when his skin feels ticklish and he knows he’s disgusting enveloped in sweat and other fluids, Zayn manages to dismiss the hot burn on his wrist. (And he’s somewhat sure Liam is doing the same)

They spend two and a half days locked in, and this time when Louis asks how it was, Zayn can actually answer through his blush.

Ever since meeting him, Niall has worn wristbands.

Ever since meeting him, Niall has been bubbling smiles and shinny blue eyes.

Ever since meeting him, Niall has been guarded of all of them.

It’s an accident. The five of them deciding to go play a little at the beach.

Zayn’s afraid of great masses of water and stays put on a towel as he watches Liam and Louis surf. Harry’s next to him reading something from Neruda or some other poet he’s into this week; and Niall, well, Niall’s just going through his fifth hot dog and a glass of (is that beer?)

And it’s an accident, how Niall manages to spill whatever he’s been drinking on his arms, successfully soaking the colourful wristbands that never leave him.

It’s not an accident, how Zayn tries to help by pulling on them and succeeding on taking them off. (Harry too wrapped in his book to know of anything)

There’s no time there, but there’s a long-ago healed scar on each wrist. And Zayn can pretend.

He can. Or he could pretend not to have seen anything; but Niall’s smile falters and his eyes are less shinny as he puts the wristbands on place and jumps to his feet, making a quick run back to the main street. (Taking a bus and going home)

“Where’s Niall?” Liam asks, water dripping from his form, and Zayn can’t really tell him so he just, he just what? He looks into Liam’s browns and hopes he understands. And Liam does.

Liam doesn’t sleep in his room that night, or the night after (or for an entire week) 

And if Zayn has to be honest, he questions the nature of Liam and Niall’s relationship, not for the first time. A feeling of embarrassment and stupidity fixes its place somewhere inside him.

His wrist doesn’t ache or burn during the whole of that week. (But his heart does and Zayn figures it’d be easier to live without a hand than without a heart)

The weather sucks.

It’s late and there’s been rain for the most part of the day, and by the time Zayn reaches his door all he wants is to throw himself on bed and sleep until the weekend is over.

But that doesn’t happen.

His light is on and there’s someone bulky sitting on his bed.

“Liam” he whispers, just in case he’s more tired than he had thought and has started hallucinating.

“Hey” Liam answers. He gets up and walks towards Zayn.

And Zayn could punch himself because he backs until he hits the closed door. A sad smile crosses Liam’s face but he still reaches out with trembling hands and questioning eyes.

(What question could there be when Zayn would give everything he could give to Liam?)

“You’re cold” Liam says, and his voice shakes a little as he undresses Zayn with tender fingers.

“I’m sorry” Zayn blurts startling both Liam and himself.

Liam shakes his head slightly and his smile is little less sad, or at least it looks as if it’s not sad because of Zayn anymore.

“Nothing to be sorry about” he mutters

“Will you tell me?” Zayn asks quietly, hoping against hope that Liam didn’t hear him; but the room is so quiet and of course Liam heard, because Liam always hears and listens when it’s about Zayn.

Silence stretches itself as Liam insists on undressing Zayn (and then undressing himself)

Liam doesn’t speak until they’re both under the Toy Story sheets, breaths mingling and limbs tangled to make it impossible to distinguish one boy from the other.

“Niall, he” and he bites his lip the way he does when he’s nervous or mulling an answer “You see how we have this weird numbers on our wrists and when they come to zero we’re supposed to find our “soul mate”?”

Zayn nods, partly because of course he knows (even though he’s been spending most of his time trying to forget it) and partly because he doesn’t really trust his voice then.

“Niall’s time stopped three years ago” but it’s bitter and a little bit angry “they met and Niall was so happy, and I thought, fuck, I thought she was so good for him”

And Zayn doesn’t think he wants to know anymore, but he keeps quiet and tightens his arms around Liam.

“They dated, or fucked or whatever the hell they did, for over a year; and one day Niall appeared on my doorstep (which is not in Ireland) with bloodshot eyes and tears still falling down. There was a crumpled letter on his hand” Zayn can feel Liam shivering with anger as he breathes to continue “she left, there were no good reasons for her to leave. She just did, and Niall was devastated. He came to live with my family after that because he couldn’t bear to live in the same town where they’d met and where he’d fallen for her”

“What was her name?” Zayn asks

“Does it really matter?”

No, it doesn’t; but Zayn would like a name to curse for hurting the Irish lad.

He shakes his head and Liam smiles at him.

“Niall transferred to my school and after graduation we talked about it and chose to attend the same University” Liam stops.

A heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

And many more in which they just breathe. There’s something wet and Zayn realizes Liam is crying, and then that he’s crying too.

“During our last summer before coming here” Liam goes on “Niall left a strange message on my phone, I was out doing some shopping you see?” and there’s something in Liam’s voice that kind of begs for Zayn to tell him that it wasn’t his fault; but Zayn’s throat is constricted and he has to limit himself to place gentle kisses along Liam’s jaw and over his chest.

“As soon as I saw it I ran home. He had locked himself in the bathroom, and then I thanked whatever deity exists for working out because that’s the only reason I was able to break the door and stop the bleeding. An ambulance got there and they patched him roughly before taking him to a hospital where they drugged him and stitched him. Two weeks went by while he laid in there”

They’re holding each other almost too tightly now.

“You know how they say it’s bad luck going against this things?” Liam asks as he taps his own glowing numbers, and Zayn nods even though he knows Liam isn’t expecting a reply. “She had an accident” he says “she died. And somehow Niall convinced himself it had been his fault” a bitter, humour-less bark of laughter explodes in Liam’s chest “so he tried to kill himself, the idiot”

There’s silence again, where rain’s falling again, hitting on the room’s window mercilessly.

“He’s better now. He’s a lot better now”

Zayn nods and places a chaste kiss to Liam’s lips. “I’m sorry” he whispers again.

When Zayn sees Niall again an odd number of days have gone by; there’s a small air of tiredness around him and dark circles under his eyes, but there’s also a smile that feels more genuine than any other before that one. And because of that smile Zayn doesn’t hesitate when he surges forward and hugs Niall, tight and a bit too long.

But Niall only smiles brighter when they pull away as Liam jokes about how Zayn is his and Niall should keep his hands on a pint.

(And Zayn’s stomach definitely doesn’t knot at Liam stating Zayn is his. Because Zayn is, he is Liam’s)

Time keeps going on; Liam keeps on living in Zayn’s; Louis and Harry become even more sickening; and Niall keeps on eating (and wearing his wristbands)

“Do you believe in it?” 

“Believe in what?”

“Bad luck”

Zayn can’t place why he asked the question in the first place, a whispered conversation, but he’s helpless and he’ll grab to any form of hope he can have.

There, in the darkness of his room, in the warmness of Liam’s arms. There Liam doesn’t answer, or maybe he does and Zayn just doesn’t want to realize it, a small and sad smile stretched tightly across his lips.

So Zayn kisses him. Willing the smile and the sadness and the hopelessness to go away.

(At least until his numbers stop and he can’t belong to Liam anymore and Liam won’t belong to him again)

Sometimes, when Liam is asleep, Zayn looks at his own wrist and then at Liam’s; making a pit in his stomach at how distant they are. Liam’s time won’t be up for a while yet, and Zayn can’t believe how months ago all he wanted was for his time to be up (while now all he wants is a little more)

They kiss.

They bite.

They mark.

They scratch each other.

They laugh.

They have sex and they make love.

(And one time they kissed under London’s awful rain and rain stopped being awful)

Liam sings Zayn to sleep some nights, and Zayn reads Liam to sleep some others.

“One more week” Louis’ voice enters his ears, there’s sadness underlined in the nonchalance his friend tries and fails to feign. They’re alone, just the two of them and Zayn knows why he trusts Louis with the things he does and how Louis just understands and hugs him.

Louis doesn’t tell him how everything will be all right.

For how slowly Liam’s things took to move into Zayn’s room, they disappear fast; one day they are and the next they aren’t. His room had never quite felt so empty and big and a little cold.

Zayn does his best to ignore the pity in their friends’ eyes.

Liam keeps on smiling at him, but Zayn can see it, Zayn sees the traces of sadness inside his browns; and Zayn is sure Liam can see his too.

They still sleep in the same bed.

One night Liam asks Zayn to top.

“Why?” Zayn asks, all innocent curiosity

Liam chuckles softly and Zayn is reminded of how mature he is for his age. “I’ve never let anyone do it” Liam says “And I want to give this to you” 

“Are you sure?”

And Liam smiles at him, that reassuring smile that makes Zayn believe he’s able to change the world and himself.

It’s tight and Zayn thinks it must hurt, but Liam never stops smiling; and Zayn feels tears trailing his cheeks. Liam kisses him. Softly, slowly, in that underwater world they found when their lips met.

Time flies away.

“Tomorrow” Liam whispers

“Tomorrow” Zayn echoes with his voice strained with the tears he’s done trying to stop

“I love you”

A heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

And then Zayn’s heart is racing time and he fears he might die then and there.

“I know” he says against Liam’s lips “I love you” he skips the ‘too’ because that would make him sound like an obligation.

“I know” and Liam’s lips quirk up in a wet smile.

When he wakes up, Liam isn’t there anymore and Zayn understands; he doesn’t feel angry or betrayed (if anything he’s a little sad) because Zayn understands.

Zayn’s getting ready when his body feels the pull and instinct takes him over; contrary to what he could have thought or imagined before, his heart doesn’t hammer with excitement and his hands don’t tremble with nerves, no, his heart feels like it starts beating slower as if that way time would turn and he’d be Liam’s again.

And Zayn realises that, no matter what or who, he’ll always be Liam’s. His heart goes back to its normal rate and a small smile tugs at his lips.

He sees Louis, Harry and Niall on his way; they all wave in encouragement. He doesn’t see Liam.

And it’s ok because he understands.

Because if it was Liam the one going, he wouldn’t be able to see it. 

Because Zayn still can’t see anyone but Liam being his one, and Zayn still can’t see how anyone but himself could be Liam’s other.

Exactly one year, fifteen days and three hours have passed since the day they met.

Seconds tick away as Zayn stares at the glowing numbers going backwards until they all stop.

“Hello”

Epilogue

5 years later

“It’s time” Liam whispers at his reflection as he passes a hand over his just-shaved hair, and maybe it had been a bad idea to do it but he’d needed it.

“It’s time” Niall chips from where he leans on the doorframe, a smile already stretching his features and a special glint on his eyes.

Liam exhales a shaky breath and offers a nervous smile, he looks down at his wrist and starts walking (where? Outside obviusly) He hugs Niall before exiting their shared flat.

And it’s weird. That feeling of timing running out for something good to happen; in his past when time ran out someone had had to leave, Zayn had had to leave.

They hadn’t kept in touch, it was better that way because Liam knew that if he as much as heard Zayn’s voice, he’d run to him to trap him and not let him go. Bad luck could go fuck itself.

But he’d seen Zayn once. Just once for when Harry and Louis got married three years after University; it wasn’t a popular practice, getting married, but they had wanted to do it.

The service was beautiful.

Liam knew from photos because he flew after spotting Zayn and knowing his other would be there too.

London weather is something astounding, for the amazing sun they’d had for the whole of the week, exactly that day has to be cloudy and chilly and cold and just sort of miserable.

Even Liam’s fingers (balled securely inside his jacket’s pockets) are starting to get numb from his walk outside.

He stops walking.

Seconds tick away as Liam stares at his wrist.

Five

The strange familiarity of hazel

Four

A random streak of blonde on raven locks

Three

No. It can’t be. Olive skin.

Two

Pearly whites and a stubble.

One

Cold fingers wrapping around the back of his neck, scratching as if trying to pull the hair that’s no longer there.

Zero

Warm lips. The kiss he’d been dreaming about for five years. Slow, soft, desperate.

“How?” he breathes out as those lips smile against his

“Who knows”

“How?” he asks again because how?

And Zayn laughs softly against their kiss. 

“Who knows” he repeats and he separates from Liam so they are staring into each other’s eyes “A year ago” he goes “we woke up and our times had restarted” his hands unlocking to shove up his sleeve and show Liam the numbers that should have disappeared already; but the zeros are there, glowing, brilliant.

Liam’s voice is lost, but he doesn’t need it because he just smiles, wide and honest and happy, because how?

“And Perrie and I, we tried; but I loved her more as a sister and every time, every day, I just kept thinking of you. And how I wished it was you and not her, and how I just wanted it to be LiamandZayn instead of Zayn and Perrie” Zayn’s smiling too, and there are no tears (those will come later, after the rush is down)

“Perrie?” Liam croaks, brows knitted in confusion

“Oh” Zayn’s gaze goes to his shoes as he blushes in embarrassment “She’s-you know” he stammers “she’s great, you’ll like her”

Is that jealousy?

How could it be when Zayn is there?

So Liam smiles and keeps on smiling through their kisses and the weather doesn’t suck anymore and Niall’s happier when they get to the flat (And as it seems it’s a surprise for everyone, so Louis and Harry join them for celebration dinner)

Their bodies find each other again in that familiar underwater sense where they make love slowly, afraid that it might just be a dream from which to wake up. But they fall asleep on white sheets because Zayn never returned the Toy Story ones and Liam didn’t want others than those they had shared; and when morning comes again they’re still tangled on each other, using each other’s space and breathing in the same air.

The early morning is still and silent. Their hearts beat. And Zayn notices (or more like confirms because he had already sort of picked on it) how their hearts beat around the same tempo.

There’s a small burn on his wrist, but it goes away; slowly, fading, but it does and then it’s just them in between white sheets (that Zayn will change because Toy Story is better) and streams of sunlight and skin on skin.

And Zayn can’t help it.

Zayn can’t help but think what a big lie it is that people never choose who to fall in love with, because he has, he somehow has chosen who he fell for and who to spend the rest of his life with. And there, with his head on Liam’s chest and the calmness of the other man’s breathing, Zayn thanks whoever deity exits and whoever puts those bloody timers in people because they listened to him.

Seconds tick away as Zayn stares at the glowing zeros on his wrist. He sighs loudly before dropping his arm around the waist of the man that sleeps beneath him; a smile tugs at his lips and his eyelids drop, it’s been a little more than six years since he crashed against Liam that morning.

Zayn is happy as he falls back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Now there’s a perfectly cientifical explanation to why and how this happened, not that “love conquers it all" crap. In this world the government implants this chips in newborns in order to decrease divorces, heartbreak and suicides by heartbreak. Now in my head this little chips scan brain waves and parallel them to someone’s brain waves that are either like yours or compliment yours. Why does Zayn and Liam’s connect in the end? because neither could stop thinking (and loving) the other, so the damn chips picked on that and reactivated or restarted themselves and that’s it. Fin.
> 
> Oh, and that “bad luck" shit is just a myth.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr here: http://sometimes-i-english.tumblr.com/ (because I'm lame and don't know yet how to put a link on the notes, sorry)


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